Postpone Nothing
Our nomadic life caused us to postpone only one thing: feeling old. This is not to say that we have postponed being old. Heaven knows that with each passing day we are surprised at the changes we see in the mirror. We just do not feel old.
There is the difference. We cherish our excellent health and financial stability—the two essential ingredients of what some people call our “derring-do” retirement. We know that it’s much easier for a person to feel young when he or she is well. We looked after our money and health throughout our lives, but we know that we cannot claim all the responsibility for our good fortune. Luck gave Tim and me good genes, and each other, both of which we are thankful for every day.
Before we started our “home free” life, we were living in the emotional place author Jess Walter termed “the vast, empty plateau where most people live, between boredom and contentment” in his novel, Beautiful Ruins. While not unhappy, we were bored. Old age and ennui curled under the doors and around the windows.
Never again have we felt that threat; we have not looked back. We are healthier, happier, and more in touch with our world and our own selves than we dreamed possible. The boredom stands in a far corner, kept at bay. As for contentment? In my opinion, it’s overrated.
Some might find my view shallow, and they may be partially correct. Truth is, though, that I’d rather worry about how we will make it from Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris to our apartment at rush hour next week than whether my napkins will match the tablecloth for a dinner party, if a gardener will fix the sprinklers before the roses croak, or if I will show up late for a club committee meeting. I am not espousing our lifestyle for everyone, nor do I think that our choices are superior in any way. I do know we are living exactly the way we want to live, and feel very lucky to have made the right decision for ourselves.
When we cast off on this adventure, we had no idea whether we were heading for years of regret and turmoil or a happy voyage. What would life be like without a haven where we could pull the covers over our heads and hide out until we found a better idea? The clock was ticking and we wanted to experience the last part of our lives without being bound to one place. This is where courage enters the picture. We needed a mixture of qualities, both admirable and unattractive, to conquer our fear of giving up our home, most of our belongings, and the good opinion of some of our friends and family to strike out, unfettered, for a new life. We were certainly old enough to know that our choice would be fraught with unforeseen consequences.
Now, the results are in. Life on the road suits us perfectly most of the time. Our minor upsets and mishaps usually have been conquered by patience, laughter, and flexibility. Sometimes, we solve the problem by simply spending a few extra bucks to pay for a more comfortable place, or to take a cab instead of the underground when we’re lost or tired. There have been days when weather, illness, unpleasantness, frustration, or just plain bad moods plagued us. We have been frightened more than once, and I ache with longing for my family occasionally. I get sentimental about strange things like my garden, which some other woman fusses over now, or my great old cast-iron skillet, which waits for me in storage. Someday, I will have another garden, and that iron pot will produce another golden frittata when we finally decide to settle down again.
The trade-off for these discomforts and yearnings? Challenging our notions of what “old” means. We hold that specter at arms’ length where it really counts: in our minds and attitudes.
Of course, we have to accommodate reality: we no longer sprint up the underground stairs in the London Tube or the Paris Metro; we step to the side and take our time. We don’t frolic until the wee hours anymore; we take long, leisurely lunches instead. Red-eye flights or twelve-hour bus rides are no longer an option for us. However, we learn something every day, see something, plan something, meet someone, or solve some brand-new problem. For those reasons, we do not perceive ourselves as “old.”
Not every older person can or wants to follow our lead by making radical changes in his or her life. However, we hope that our example can help others understand that “old” doesn’t mean “finished” or resigned to a life of boredom and routine. Living home free is more than an action; it’s a mind-set, an attitude. It allows one the latitude to embrace a new idea, change a long-observed pattern, or make a new friend. Those things can bring fresh life and excitement to anyone in any circumstance.
Many have written to tell us how they found their own version of home-free living. Some extended their travels farther afield. Others found places to live in other countries for months at a time. Several learned a new language or took an earlier retirement to buy more time to pursue their dreams. Some of our new friends are unable to travel or make changes. Yet, by riding with us through reading and interacting with us on our website, they enjoyed new pleasure, jogged their memories about their own forays into the world (however large or small), or pursued and rekindled interests they had abandoned because they considered themselves “old.”
As I write this, Tim sits downstairs in our current home, a charming Irish cottage near the Ring of Kerry, looking into plans for the future. He mutters into his computer screen as he compares prices for a cruise we’re considering for next year. Tonight our friends Maureen and Alan, who were our generous neighbors last year in Dublin, will be our dinner guests. Our dinner conversation will probably include a lively discussion about what we’ve learned since we last saw them, and our future plans. Right now, French Polynesia is of particular interest, and a more extensive exploration of South America is definitely a contender, which we want to see despite our experiences with those naysaying Argentines. Australia and New Zealand fascinate us, and Asia always sits on our table of primary consideration. We rejoice every day for being allowed this time to see the world together after so many years apart, and a major ingredient in our delight will continue to be sharing our experiences with you.
Ultimately, embracing the changes in our life’s dynamics, finding the flexibility to temporarily switch roles (muse and writer, optimist and realist, dreamer and doer), and becoming acquainted with thousands of people also in the process of discovering new directions in their lives reinforced our belief in the power of saying “yes.” To this day, it inspires us to postpone nothing because life is too short and too sweet not to savor it the way you want. We hope that you will, too.